


A Modern Meeting

by SarcasmFish (Alcyonidae)



Series: A Modern Magic [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Chance Meetings, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, Modern Era, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 02:11:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7462644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alcyonidae/pseuds/SarcasmFish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen first meets the Inquisitor while having a bit of embarrassing car trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Modern Meeting

Sweet Maker, was it really possible for someone to not know how to pump gas?

Cullen watched the young woman parked diagonal from his place at the deserted gas pumps. He leaned back against his car as the numbers on the read-out spun by. The woman was on her third circle around the two-door Dodge Neon. The car had once been some variant of blue, but could now be more accurately listed as primer and rust. Were those zip ties holding on one of the headlights?

At first he had thought perhaps she had hit something and was searching for damage, but the way she scowled at the gas pump and puzzled at the secrets of the fuel door cover was convincing him more and more that she may have never put gas into a car before.

She wore a casual sun dress ending below her knees that fluttered in the weak wind whipping around the hot cars and trash cans. It was a pale turquoise color printed over with a white floral design. She had to be at least in her late 20’s, how could she even own a car and not know the most important step in caring for it? If not for the jalopy she was circling, he might have thought her a lost rich girl that had forgotten the butler that usually pumped her gas. There were several like that in this tourist-ridden city.  
She was prying at the fuel door again, running her hands over it for some hidden button. Her nails tucked into the tiny gaps to wrest it open, the corner of her lip permanently caught by her teeth. He hated the mounting worry marring her features. Aside from the attendant inside, there was not but pigeons nearby.

He pushed away from his own vehicle and approached her.

“I’m sorry, but..” She spun around with a squeak, an actual squeak, and backed up until she hit the passenger door. Her hand leapt to the handle, but it was locked. He had not intended to sneak up on her and gentled his voice, leaving behind the harsh tones of a leader for the softer ones he imagined a courtly knight might use while bowed over a lady’s fingers. “Do you need help?”

“I..” she sputtered, sandaled feet shuffling her in place as if she were torn between finding the courage to stand her ground or fleeing. “Yes.” There was that squeak again. He waited while she took a deep breath, clasping her hands together in front of her. “I mean, yes. Yes, I would appreciate it.” Her voice was cultured and schooled, a complete contradiction to the dilapidated car she stood beside.

He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile and stepped forward to pull open the driver side door. He took note of the hasty step back she took as he neared.

“This is what you’re looking for.” He tugged the little latch under the steering wheel and the fuel door flipped open. She lofted a heavy glare at the round door that had been playing coy with her for so long. “Are you going to pay with cash or card?”

“Oh,” she breathed, eyes brightening. She edged around him like he was made of something sharp and withdrew a small bag from the center console. “Card.” He gaped in surprise when she handed the piece of plastic to him without hesitation. The woman acted like he was a bear about to eat her, yet handed over her credit card without a thought.

He settled for a raised eyebrow and a shrug and inserted the card into the machine, going through the motions of answering the prompts with rote ease. He was about to select the next option when her hand lighted onto the back of his own. She quickly withdrew it, seeming as surprised as he was that she had suddenly touched him.

“Um,” she gave him a nervous smile, “If you don’t tell me what you’re doing, I won’t ever learn.”

He nodded and went over the routine of selecting a fuel type, inserting the nozzle, and locking in the handle to begin fueling, explaining little variations she might come across at different stations as he went. She watched him with rapt attention, asking questions, and seeming to grow more at ease with the process and perhaps even with him.

As the nozzle clicked into place and the numbers began to count up on the digital display he finally asked the question that had been plaguing him from the start, “How is it you’ve never pumped gas before?” He tried to keep his tone curious and nonjudgmental.

“I’m from Ostwick...” She twirled her fingers together and glanced away a moment, a flush highlighting her cheeks. “Ostwick, New Jersey.”

“Oh.” A smirk touched his scarred lip. “I’m sorry.”

“Ha. Ha. Very funny.” A little fox grin flashed onto her lips and he was stunned by it, rendered speechless by the change in her demeanor and what it did to her eyes. He looked away, reaching to rub his shoulder as a distraction, lest she notice his sudden fluster. From the corner of his eye he watched the playful words roll from her lips. “I’ve never heard that one before. And just where are you from?”

“Honnleath, Iowa,” he replied, turning back to her with what he hoped was restored composure. “And yes, before you ask, I actually did grow up on a farm.” He had heard all of the jokes before, too. The grin dropped from her lips, replaced by a curiosity that made her eyes grow larger and her chin to tilt so slightly.

“Really?” She blinked up at him, hands dropping away from where they had been clenched. “Did you grow corn? Can you really just go pick a piece and eat it?” From anyone else the questions might have been a prelude to a joke or some form of teasing, but she spoke with such honesty he found himself wanting to answer any volley of questions she could muster. With the genuine curiosity she leveled at him he felt as if she would listen to him talk about what type of tractor his family used like he were telling fairytales to his nephew.

The woman tossed another glare at the fuel nozzle as it clicked to signal the tank was full. “Another time, perhaps.” He gave her a little half smile, surprised at himself. He sincerely hoped there would be another time.   
He returned the equipment back to its holder and pulled her credit card free, passing a bold glance at her name as he handed it back. “Talia Trevelyan. Trevelyan like the billionaire?”

Her face went blank and he immediately regretted the question. She looked back at her beaten old car as she muttered a response. “Yeah, that would be funny, wouldn’t it.”

He cleared his throat, busying himself by returning the gas cap and flipping the fuel door closed. It was clear she would not be addressing that question. When he turned back to her she was gripping the card in her hand, faced turned up to him with eyes full of earnest determination.

“Listen, I really have to thank you. Both for helping me and..” She looked away a moment, hair breaking free from the place it had been tucked behind her ear before she returned to him. “And for not making fun of me.”

He shifted, digging a hand into his pocket while the other settled at the back of his neck. “Maybe.. we could exchange numbers?” He swallowed, a thick lump lodging in his throat when he needed to breathe. He had not expected to be able to ask such a question. It stunned him and he found himself scrambling to keep up the pace of such accidental bravery. “That is.. if it’s alright.” The girl in front of him flushed, dropping her eyes to the sandals on her feet, her fingers twisting the credit card between her hands. “Maker, I’m sorry if that was too forward. I just meant, if you ran into any more trouble you could call?” Cullen winced, he was not making this wreck of speech any better. He wished he could just disappear instead, float like a ghost back into his car and drive away.

“It’s.. it’s nice of you to offer.” Here came the rejection. He could handle it. He could climb back into his car, drive away, and not dwell on what an idiot he had been for the rest of his day. Andraste preserve him. “How about.. you put in your number and.. if I need something I’ll call?” She was holding a phone out to him in the palm of her hand.

He stared at her a moment. She pushed the tress of hair that had come free back into place and gave him a self-depreciating little smile and shrug. “I’m.. well, I’m not very brave.” It was a whisper, almost too low to hear under the sound of the cars passing on the road behind them.

He pulled himself together and tapped his name and number into the phone before returning it to her. “You’re from Jersey and made it all the way here on your own. I’d say that’s a brave start.” He exchanged smiles with her again and turned back to his car before he could get his foot into his mouth again.

Before he could get far he heard her clear her voice and call out, “Thank you, again!”

Several weeks later, after he had nearly forgotten the chance meeting, he received a text from an unknown number.

(11:37) What do you know about serpentine belts?? :(


End file.
